


The Rebellion: A Field Guide

by Overseer Khasta (Cyberfei)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Earth, Alternate Future, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bear - Freeform, City Elf Culture and Customs, City Elf Origin, Cyberpunk, Elves, Fae & Fairies, Gen, London, London Underground, Magic Technology, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Rebellion, Rebels, Solarpunk, Trains, Uprising, Urban Fantasy, War, andred bear mccaulson, andred mccaulson, cyberfei, ecopunk, elfpunk - Freeform, evadnalia, evadnalia ni'tathal, protest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfei/pseuds/Overseer%20Khasta
Summary: You find yourself in London, England, many years after the Uprising. For whatever reason, you have decided to join the Rebellion -- a group of elves and humans fighting against the oppressive Cleansed occupation that killed hundreds of elves and closed off the centre of the city. While searching the few available radio stations for some clue to the Rebellion's whereabouts, you hear a message. Following its trail takes you on a journey through the history of the Rebellion, and its members...





	1. Two Cans of Energy Drink (and An Old Sweater)

Two cans of energy drink and an old sweater. That’s what I was holding the day this Uprising shit ruined everything. One of the cans was for me. One was for the kid who’d just been beat up for defending me. The sweater was for him too.

Those cans cost me a damn fortune. Yanno, as far as cans of energy drink go. I never got to drink it and that— _that_ is the greatest evil that ever came out of this bullshit. …besides my parents probably being dead, but that’s a whole story on its own.  _This_ story, as it happens, so I’m gonna tell you all about that. Sitting comfortably? No? Me neither; you’ll get used to it.

So mom’s from NYC, and dad’s from London. Dad’s a politician, I guess, and mom’s just-.. mom. She sold a bunch of jewellery and stuff on the side, I think, but mostly she just looked after me – hell knows where her money came from.

Oh yeah, and we’re elves. That’s a thing. Mom’s a City Elf – that’s the folks who live in the cities with humans – and dad’s a High Elf (the snobby political, gold-in-every-hole kinda elf). That makes me a High City Elf I guess, but I only ever really cared about the City part. That’s where the little people are, yanno? High Elves got all that political power but who has to clean up after them? Yeah. The little people.

Not that I don’t think the Uprising was needed, of course. I was getting just as sick of skulking around as anyone – “magic isn’t real” blah, “elves don’t exist” blah blah. Had enough of that “xyz isn’t real” shit when I showed up at school in jeans that one time and told them to call me Evan. Oh yeah, that’s another thing: my gender? Totally fucky. It’s like-.. all over. I’ve stopped even trying to define it anymore. And that’s normal for us! Like, at least  _half_ of all City Elves are genderfucky in some way. Not so much humans.

That’s where I started. Dropped out of middle school because fuck that noise, got an elf for a home tutor and spent the rest of my time joining protests and shit. I’ve had my fair share of shit thrown at me in the past, literally and verbally.

Which brings me back to the point I was trying to make in the first place. So mom and dad had this long-distance thing going on; I only really saw him like, once every year or whatever. But our Ambassador (that's the dude who goes to the Elven High Council meetings, mostly to listen to the High Elves talk about bullshit like "are the humans stealing your resources" and "are the Dark Elves stealing your resources" and "it can't possibly be our problem that you're running out of resources". Or so I assume) passed around the news that "our people" (High Elves. Mostly pretty much High Elves) were starting a "great revolution" to "take our rightful place alongside humanity".

By which they meant they were going to barrel into the cities, take over the governments, and fight anyone who stood in their way. And they did.

Now like I said, I don't think the Uprising was entirely uncalled for. History shows that no big change or integration of new cultures into a rigid society comes without a little force. It's just that usually a  _little_  force comes after  _a lot_  of time. Doing it all at once like this, in such huge numbers, is more like  _war_  than revolution. It  _is_  war.

But still, mom wanted to help; and I kinda wanted to help too. Like I said: someone's gotta look out for the little people. So we flew over to England, just before shit hit the fan.

Mom helped with negotiations, which-.. to be totally fair, we almost had it. The government were cooperative, things were going well, but-.. democracy, yanno? The people weren’t happy we just sprung up outta nowhere with no warning (surprise, surprise) and so things came to blows.

I mostly stuck with the little people thing. Introducing myself to humans, trying to be a friendly face in the crowd – sometimes it even worked. Like with that one kid. I was in Central London with a bunch of fae protesters; thought it was just gonna be a normal day rallying, protesting, struggling against police and asshole citizens. Then the first wave of anti-fae gas hit us, and when I say shit hit the fan I mean  _shit hit the fucking fan._

Literally nobody reacted at first. Except the people who got hit, but that was more like a couple screams then POOF. Dust. Mom-.. she was one of them. Fuck knows if dad survived it all, but I doubt it. These big-ass tanks and vehicles show up. People finally realise  _oh fuck, those guys just died._  Things went from violent protests to an all-out elf cull. I drop my shit and run like hell, just like everyone else there. Fuck knows how I got out of that alive, but as I turn around and look back there’s just dust, fucking  _everywhere._ Some elves are trying to fight back; even take out a bunch of the tanks, but whatever the gas they pumped out was made of, it worked fast and soon anyone who didn’t get out of there was dead.

Fortunately, the gas stuff is localized. It kinda spread through Central London and stayed there; especially when they put up the walls.

Oh yeah, they  _literally_  built a wall. Fucked-up, right?

So it turns out the rich assholes who built that wall are called the Cleansed. They think they’re freeing us from a plague blah blah – point is, they’re batshit crazy and they’ve blocked off a whole chunk of city so no fae can get in without suffering like hell. There’s not even plants in there.

And that’s where my  _real_  job started. See, those of us who wanna fix things; who want to take down the Cleansed and get the best part of the city back – we’re the Rebellion. And I’m a frontline operative. Which sounds a lot more badass than it is. War like this, it makes a whole lot of refugees. I’m the one who goes looking for them and takes them to one of the Rebel safehouses. I also hang around The Wall sometimes, and when we send human scavenging, infiltration or rescue parties in there I’m the one who helps get them in and out safely.

Okay, so maybe it’s a  _little_  badass.

So yeah, that’s my story. You can find me in that pile of trash that used to be Brixton, just off the southfacing Skyline that runs from Vauxhall’s Vauxwall (I’d claim the clever pun but apparently there was a VauxWall climbing centre or someshit that used to be there. Not anymore though; just plants, ruins, and the Cleansed border station). The one that goes aaaaaall the way to Godstone. Just remember to pull the cord when you wanna get off or else you  _will_ go all the way to Godstone – the trains don’t just stop anymore like they used to- aaaaaaaand why am I still telling you this? It’s been more than a couple years since the Skylines opened; I’m sure you can deal.

See ya on the flipside, or whatever it is you expect me to say.

\--Evan, your friendly neighborhood rebel, signing off~


	2. Something Resembling A Briefing, I Guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much searching, you find the old London flat you were directed to -- if only because of the spraypaint on the door that reads "Evan wozzent ere guvner, oi swear". Surrounded by various leaflets, booklets, and defaced wanted posters, you find this hurriedly-scrawled note pinned to a corkboard in a surprisingly well-maintained kitchen, given the ruined state of most of the neighborhood.

So you found my place, huh? Sweet; saves me having to track you down and you having to track me down and all the inevitable “oh you were  _there_? I was there like five minutes ago we musta just missed each other!”

Anyway. If you’re reading this, you musta just missed me. That’s life, kid. Or… Adult. Older… person. I dunno who you are; kinda rude of me to assume, sorry. Point is: I’m not here.  _There was an Evan here. They’re gone now._ (That’s, like-.. an old pop culture reference. Too old, oh man).

I’ll probably be back so you can wait around if you wanna, but that could be days or months from now and you’ll probably get bored or starve to death or something. That and you never know when some Resistance asshole will start throwing shit at you. You probably met some other Rebels on the way here and I’m sure they’ll take care of you but I’m not taking any chances, y’know?

D'you even know about the Resistance? I have no idea who I’m talking to here, they just told me there’s a newbie I’ll have to help out. So you’re either new to the Rebellion or you’re from Cleansed land or that [Astoria ](https://cyberfei.wikia.com/wiki/Astoria)place or something and you’re new to the whole damn situation. I’m gonna roll with the second and hope you’re not gonna punch me in the face when we meet up.

So the Resistance are like-.. well, they’re assholes, but I  _would_  say that. Boiled down, they’re just people who didn’t like the Uprising but pretty much hate the Cleansed too. Fair enough, right? I’ve heard there’s even some other Fae in there with them. Thing is, everyone’s an asshole in this war and so you’ve got bunches of them starting up gangs and camps and shit to try and “take back” the city one way or another. Some of those gangs and camps just protest and shit; cool, whatever. Then there’s some more that get kinda abusive? Yelling and throwing shit, graffiti telling us to fuck off, that kinda shit.

A ton more get  _violent._ I’ve seen them tearing up Rebel camps and kicking the shit out of elves and “elf sympathisers”. Sometimes they do attacks on major elven territories and cause even  _more_  damage trying to drive us out.

So yeah, you don’t wanna fuck in their direction, generally. They probably say the same about us though, so whatever.

Back to the point – sticking around on your own when there’s nobody to guide you is a Bad Idea. So here’s what you’re gonna do: take some supplies, have a nap or whatever, then get out of there. I always keep the apartment stocked up for newbies; there should be a big-ass trunk in the bedroom full of dry food and drinks and weapons and shit. Feel free to grab what you need (and  _only_ what you need – that shit’s hard to come by and you won’t be able to carry it all anyway). Then make your way to the place that used to be Electric Brixton; yanno the club/concert hall/whatever behind the old town hall? There’s still street signs around, I’m sure you’ll find it. There’ll be someone there waiting for you: for the sake of his safety we’ll call him Bear. Big dude, probably crushes people with his bare hands (bear hands???), but he’s a sweetheart, you’ll (probably) love him. He’ll take you to our hideout for the area so you can get some socialising and orientation done before you come find me (or I come find you).

Shit, you should probably have some tech too. I mean in this day and age I’d be surprised if you don’t already have some, but I’m talking [ _Rebel_  tech](https://cyberfei.wikia.com/wiki/RebelTech) . Oh yeah, we’ve got our own supply, and it’s  _badass._ If you need anything medical let Bear know and he’ll take you to our texpert (tech expert) to get you set up, but in the meantime you can take my spare [Aurorae](https://cyberfei.wikia.com/wiki/Aurorae) . It’s the weird looking green-and-silver ear cuff thing on my desk in my room. You stick the pointy end with the round bit in your piercing-hole and hook the pretty end with the spike thingies around your ear, then hold your thumb on the round bit for like two minutes until it glows, to get it synched up with your DNA/thumbprint. Don’t worry, the data won’t go anywhere. It helps you see people – shows you their magic signatures like in all those video games where you can see people’s glowy ghosts through walls and shit. And yeah, that does mean you’re literally hooking that shit into your brain, but I’m sure you’re used to that concept by now.

To activate the thingy just give the round bit in your piercing hole a lil tug with your thumb on the DNA reading part. It’ll take a lil to get used to the shapes and auras you’ll see, but just tug it again to deactivate if you need to. Fae tend to show up a kinda green-ish, pink-ish color and humans are blues and yellows. Sometimes it’ll pick up magic engines or trails left by more powerful people but you’ll get used to that too.

And there you go! Enjoy! Let Bear know if you need anything else; he’s always happy to help. And try to stay alive until I get there, or this is one hell of a waste of time.

\--From Evan, your faithful fiendish friendly fae~

_p.s. shit, do you even got your ears pierced? Man, I didn’t think this through._


	3. Theatres, Magic and Bears (Oh My!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan was right -- it's relatively easy to find the Electric Brixton from where you are. Topped up with snacks and technology, you head there to investigate.

The Electric Brixton, back before the Uprising, must have been bustling with life. The huge, rectangular box of a building resembles a theatre; complete with a cracked marquee just barely visible behind vines that have collected across its surface, the name of the last act to play there long since obscured. The blacked-out base of the building, underneath the marquee, has been marked with graffiti so many times that you can barely make out any of it, besides the odd inspirational quote or anti-elf raving. You feel like the white half of the building, _above_ the marquee, would probably be the same if not for the great chunk which had been ripped out of it; moss and flowers growing between the cracks and along the breaks as if trying to replace the brick and stone turned rubble.

The doors are firmly locked, but as you head around the building you find the backstage door is open; wedged ajar by a lump of concrete. You push your way in, blinking around the dusty gloom inside that your eyes refuse to adjust to. Remembering the gadget Evan had left you, you lift your thumb to rest against the smooth metal adorning your earlobe. There is a moment's silence, then a soft green glow that just barely illuminates the room, emanating from the pointed metal cuffing your ear. Tugging gently, as per Evan's instructions, you feel a surge shoot through your skull, like something between brainfreeze and the rush you get from standing up too fast. It's not exactly  _painful_ but it's certainly shock enough that you almost reach to quickly turn it off again -- only to realise the surge is dying down as quickly as it came.

And then you see the mist.

Shapes fade into form in front of your eyes; almost like coloured clouds dancing in the dark. Some are more distant, others merely faded trails the colour of rusty mud. You blink around, letting your eyes adjust before you make yourself dizzy trying to follow all the lights, and notice one shape is closer than the others. You don't think it's in the room with you, but it's certainly in the building -- a large blob of yellow light swirled with blue mist, vaguely person-shaped in its form.  _Blue and yellow--_ that was what Evan said humans would appear as, right? Using the crack of light from the doorway and the soft glow of your Aurorae, you carefully navigate the rubble and wild plants to approach the figure.

You find him in the main hall, sitting patiently with his feet over the edge of the dusty stage. He's... well, the only word you can think of to describe him is  _big._ There are a couple of working spotlights on in here so you tug at your earlobe again and the mist in your vision fades out, allowing you to see him properly.   
The man is  _burly,_ to say the least. His upper body resembles a solid wall draped in cloth, and you're pretty sure just one of his thighs is bigger than your head. You can't see his face from this angle, completely obscured by the hooded cloak he wears. This has to be Bear, right? Before you can even think of a plan to check if you're right, he turns his head in your direction, gently shifting one of his enormous hands to pat the wood beside him. 

As you cautiously approach him, he lowers his hood and turns his gaze towards you. As you sit, he towers above you and you have to crane your neck a little to properly see him. His eyes are a milky brown and surprisingly soft as they look you over appraisingly; framed by a mop of long brown hair. His face is just as chiseled and strong as the rest of him, and his lips pull into a stoic line among a surprisingly well-groomed beard.  

"You're a little small to be a rebel," he says, his voice a booming Scottish drawl. Though his voice is nearly monotone, there is a sparkle of amusement in his gaze, and as a low rumble of laughter echoes in his throat you get the feeling he says that to every new recruit. "Evan left you to fend for yourself? They do that -- busy kid, they are. They'll be back. What's your name? Why join us now?"

Finding it surprisingly easy to talk to this kind giant, you tell him. Bear listens patiently, then nods and claps himself on the thigh with a resounding  _thud._ "Right, then. As the strongest Thaumaturge this side of the wall, it's my job to take you to the nearest Rebel camp. I'd walk you there but then anyone could follow us, so we're going to have to jump."

Jump? You watch in confusion as he gets to his feet, now towering even higher above you than before (can humans even  _be_ that tall?), and offers you his hand. When you take it hesitantly, he flashes a smile, "You'll have to hold your breath for a second."

Hold your breath? You frown, but feel like you should probably do as he says and drag in a breath to hold. As soon as you do, his grip tightens on your hand, surprisingly gentle despite the sheer strength you can feel in those large, calloused fingers. Lifting his free hand, his brow pinches in concentration, fingers twitching and shifting almost imperceptibly -- and just as you feel you're about to lose the breath you were holding, his arm sharply snaps back, hand closing as if "grabbing" the air. The atmosphere ripples and shoots towards you like a tornado, and as it yanks you both forward you realise why you had to hold your breath. Your vision blackens for a moment, and as you feel your body lurch like the dip in a rollercoaster the breath you'd held is dragged out of your lungs -- then as soon as it had begun, it's over. There's a moment of dizzy disorientation; confusion in your brain as if it had been expecting some kind of abrupt stop or collision. Then Bear's hand slips away from yours, your vision clears, and you can finally take in your surroundings. 

Bear was right -- you could have walked here. You've landed in an underground station; Brixton Underground Station to be exact, if the large "Brixton" signs adorning the tiled walls are anything to go by. In days gone by this could have been quite a claustrophobic space, but some of the walls and pillars have been knocked down to reveal an open gathering space between the two old train platforms. Tents line every available wall space, some straying more towards the centre of the clearing, and as you absently wander to check the place out you can see there are tents all along the platforms, up until about halfway. Humans and elves alike are relaxing and chatting at the entrances of their tents or on the floor around a large stone firepit that has been erected in the middle of the clearing. Some obvious newcomers sit meekly in a group at the furthest wall, some of them patching each other up from injuries they've sustained outside.

The overgrown natural takeover of the surface hasn't quite touched these dank, dimly lit halls, but as you look up to the high ceilings you can see the occasional breakthrough of moss or hanging vine, and some people have brought down their own potted plants from the surface. Graffiti almost completely covers the curved walls overhanging the train tracks themselves: some spraypaint, some moss. Despite the chatter there is a hushed, calm atmosphere down here. Friendly; welcoming despite the clear suspicion you see in some of their gazes. You feel like you should be smelling more smoke than you are, but there must be some magic at play as the scent that reaches your nose is the barest hint of gently smouldering tinder atop old tile, flowers and machinery. It's almost  _homely._ A little haven; an underground tent village in its own right. 

Just seeming to catch his breath, Bear smiles down at you. "Welcome to the Underground~"


End file.
